


Affliction

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-09
Updated: 2006-04-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Trip struggles to understand his feelings. Missing scenes, 4.15 "Affliction" and 4.16 "Divergence." (03/29/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Betas: Shivvlan, SueC and Bianca. All mistakes are my own.  
  
Set in Season 4 during the episodes 4.15 "Affliction" and 4.16 "Divergence."  


* * *

Starship Enterprise: 27th November 2154, Night.

"Malcolm!"

T'Pol woke with a start, gasping as the cry escaped her. She slapped the control for her reading light as she sat up in her bed, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth as she tried to regulate her breathing and regain her composure.

She hadn't had such a vivid dream since she'd ceased her abuse of trellium-D. Her heart was pounding against her ribs and her silken pyjamas were soaked with perspiration, the evidence of her arousal still obvious between her thighs. In the past she'd dreamed frequently of Commander Tucker: intense, erotic dreams that echoed their one and only coupling, but they had subsided almost completely in the months following their return from the Delphic Expanse, most especially since she had begun to study the Kir'Shara.

Never before had she dreamed of Lieutenant Reed in that way.

* * *

Starship Columbia: 28th November 2154.

I had to get away. I couldn't stay on Enterprise after what had happened between me and Malcolm. Workin' on the telepresence unit with T'Pol, my mind was elsewhere most of the time, thinkin' about him; what I'd done and what it meant. I just couldn't concentrate on anything else.

I was sick: that explains it. He did so much, takin' care of me, that bein' with him must've gotten mixed up with the way I feel about T'Pol, and that night I was really out of it, and he was so...

I thought I was over her, but I can't be. I must really love her.

I didn't want her to test the unit. With the Cap'n off the ship she was in command, even if Malcolm was actually lookin' after things up on the bridge. And besides which, she was our only telepath. If the Cap'n and Shran couldn't persuade the Aenar to help us, T'Pol was the only one of us who had any hope of operating the unit. If they came back empty-handed only to find T'Pol's mind had been turned to mush during the preliminary tests, we'd really be up shit-creek without a paddle. Nobody else seemed to see it that way.

But I screwed up, and there's no gettin' around that.

I've probably burned my boats with Jon too. I could tell he was mad at me; not so much for my mistake, but for askin' for a transfer. Runnin' away. Maybe he'll never forgive me. Maybe I don't deserve it.

Malcolm didn't come to my goin'-away party; not that I blame him. After we'd destroyed the drone ships he made some excuse to the Cap'n and put himself on the night-shift in the armoury. I hardly saw him at all in the days before I left. He even sent his deputy to senior staff meetings. I know I'm the one who screwed everything up, but we've been friends a long time and I miss him.

But even if I had been able to talk to him I don't know what I'd have said. 'Cause I remember how it felt to kiss him: surprisingly soft, and warm, and inviting. And I remember he kissed me back. I didn't know he felt that way about me. I mean, he'd told me a long time ago he liked guys as well as women. More than women, really. I just told him I didn't, and we left it at that. But if he does have those kinds of feelings about me, I must've hurt him when I pushed him away. I never wanted to do that.

"Are you leaving because of me?" T'Pol asked as I was packin' up my gear.

I gave her some kind of answer, but the truth is, I don't know why. I don't know anything any more.

* * *

Starship Columbia: 30th November 2154, Night.

The bathroom is hot and steamy as I stand under the shower and let the water soak my hair and cascade down my face and body. I close my eyes and lift my face into the spray as strong, agile fingers caress my neck and shoulders, massaging gently as soft lips kiss their way slowly down my spine, then a warm body presses up behind me and I lean back into the embrace as two arms snake around my torso. The nibbling kisses continue on my neck as one hand plays in the hair on my chest and the other circles around my belly button, tickling and teasing.

I smile and catch the hand on my belly, bringing it lower, closing it around my hard length, and I let out a low groan as we begin to stroke gently. I lose myself in the sensations for a few minutes as the hand inside mine strokes and squeezes me. Shivers of pleasure run down my spine and settle with the growing heat in my abdomen as I thrust into it, but suddenly I'm bereft as the hands leave my body and grasp my shoulders to turn me around. I open my eyes to meet a steely grey gaze.

"Malcolm," I whisper in wonder as my eyes rake down his naked body.

He reaches up behind my head and guides me down into a deep, loving kiss. His soft lips open against mine, warm and inviting, and I respond eagerly, slipping my tongue inside his hot mouth. I explore hungrily, my mouth moving on his, my tongue reaching and plundering, until at last he slows my tender assault and strokes his tongue lovingly against mine, caressing the front and back and sides, touching and tasting every part of me. I never want this to end, and I slide my arms around him to pull him against me as we kiss. I can feel his wet skin under my hands, his chest and stomach hard against mine, and our erections pressed together between our bodies. The touch is electric, making my hard cock throb with an aching need as I roll my hips a little and begin to create a pleasurable friction for both of us.

Finally he growls and breaks away, and I moan incoherently in protestâ€”until the moan becomes a gasp as his mouth claims my nipple. I love the way his mouth feels against my chest as he sucks and bites, then soothes my skin with his tongue, swirling it against the hardness he's created. I look down at his dark head as he nuzzles his way across my chest to find my other nipple, pushing me back against the wall as he sucks it into his mouth. Then he moves down again, kissing and tonguing his way over my skin and sinking to his knees as he reaches my belly. I sigh with pleasure as I feel his lips tickle the sensitive skin around my navel, then I whimper a little as he swirls his tongue into it. I tangle my fingers in his hair, torn between wanting to push him down to where I need him most and crushing him against me as I enjoy the sweet sensations he's creating on my belly.

After long minutes he pulls back, and those beautiful grey eyes gaze up into mine.

"I love you, Trip," he says, so soft that I can barely hear him over the running shower. But those eyes tell me everything I need to know.

"I love you, Malcolm," I tell him, hoping those four words can convey everything I feel.

I watch as he slowly wraps his mouth around the head of my cock. That amazing, skilful tongue is at work again, caressing the sensitive tip, probing gently into the slit, and licking around the ridge beneath my foreskin. I feel a tight sensation low in my abdomen as his hands join his mouth, one stroking up and down my swollen shaft as the other caresses between my thighs. It's beautiful, sweet, amazing, incredible. I'm breathing hard and striving for control as he licks and sucks and pulls and touches, but at last I give in to my need and thrust into his willing mouth. He growls deep in his throat and takes up the rhythm I've set. My cock slides between his tongue and the roof of this mouth as his hand pumps in counterpoint and my world, my life, is focused on this one exquisite moment as the tension curling in my belly folds suddenly in on itself, then releases in an explosion of light and heat as I thrust one last time into my lover's mouth, and come.

"Malcolm!"

My own harsh cry woke me from the dream, and I fell back on the pillows with a groan of frustration, breathing hard, aware of a cooling, sticky mess of come on my belly.

"Oh god, not again!" I groaned as I rolled off my bed and headed for the bathroom to clean myself up. I'm like a goddamned teenager in heat. We're all working triple shifts, trying to get Columbia ready to launch in a few days, but no matter how exhausted I am when I fall into bed, the dreams always come: explicit, erotic dreams...dreams of _him_.

This has to be about T'Pol, I thought to myself as I stared into the bathroom mirror. It _has_ to. I remember from psychology 101 that dream imagery is rarely straightforward, and I have dreams about T'Pol too sometimes; about being with her in that white space. Maybe T'Pol and Malcolm are somehow getting confused in my subconscious.

As much as I care about Malcolm, I could never feel _that_ way about him. Could I? I'm straight: always have been. It's not like he's the first gay friend I've ever had. I knew a few guys in college who went that way. We'd hang out, play sports, go see bands, just like I did with all my other friends, male and female. I just made absolutely sure they knew I was straight. I never wanted to kiss any of _them_.

And back in high school when I was on the football team I always made sure I never looked at the other guys in the locker room, just in case...in case what? In case they thought I was...? No. In case I liked what I saw too much.

Where the hell did that come from? I've never liked guys.

_At least, you always told yourself that,_ something at the back of my mind supplied.

I've always liked women: I like their soft bodies and the feel of their hair tickling my skin and the way they smell.

_But you like the way Malcolm smells too, don't you?_

Right from my very first kiss. What was her name?

_Billy._

No, Alicia. That was it, Alicia Andretti. On the beach, when our families were on vacation down in the Keys somewhere, and we'd snuck away into the dunes to escape from Lizzie, and the breeze was coming off the ocean...

_Carrying the sharp scent of pine..._

What? There weren't any pines at the beach. And who the hell is Billy?

_The first boy you ever kissed._

No, that can't be right. I'm straight.

_Then why did you kiss Malcolm?_

I shook myself and ran some cold water into the bowl to rinse my face, hoping that might wake me from this nightmare. Then I threw on my uniform and headed for engineering. A surprise inspection probably wouldn't do my brand-new team any harm, and burying myself in my work might help silence that nagging voice at the back of my mind.

But it didn't. It continued to drive me crazy all morning. Odd, disjointed memories flashed across my mind, memories of me and a boy I somehow knew was Billy, and by lunchtime my temper was so bad my crew nearly jumped outa their skins whenever I spoke. I knew I couldn't go on like this, and I figured there was only one person who could help.

I contacted the comm. officer and told her I wanted to place a call to the surface.

* * *

Starship Columbia: 1st December 2154.

I've been such an idiot.

After talking with Mom on the comm. for what seemed like hours I realised I'd made a terrible mistake. As usual she was amazing, helping me piece together something that happened to me a long time ago: an event that had traumatized me so much I'd suppressed it thoroughly and only had a handful of fragmented memories. She filled in the gaps wherever she could, and was able to supply a few facts and details none of us had been aware of at the time. Suddenly everything was so clear and simple. I was amazed I hadn't seen it before.

"You've gotta believe me, Trip," she said at the end of it, "if your Dad and me had had any idea it had affected you so badly, we'd have seen to it you got some kind of help at the time, but when you came home you really seemed fine, and we thought it was best just to let sleeping dogs..."

"It's okay, Mom. It wasn't your fault," I tried to reassure her. "I'm just glad we've finally worked it out."

"Is this about Malcolm?" she said after a pause.

"Why'd you say that?" I said, a little too quickly.

She smiled that I-know-everything smile Moms are so good at. "I've seen you together. The way he looks at you. I figured it was only a matter of time."

I fidgeted a little in my seat, feeling like I was about five years old again. "And it doesn't...y'know...bother you?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Honey, if he can make you happy, he could have blue skin and antennae growin' outa his head, and it wouldn't bother me." "I'll be sure to let Shran know," I told her wryly. "Thanks, Mom."

"Any time, Trip. I love you, honey."

"I love you too, Mom."

I closed the channel and sat back in my chair, lost in thought. Scenes and images filled my mind: sharin' bourbon and memories with Malcolm in a freezing shuttle pod as we waited for death or rescue; the way his eyes lit up with pleasure when I asked him to take shore leave with me on Risa; his whines and complaints when we were all crammed into the catwalk, that I later understood were his reaction to losin' his personal space; his quiet, supportive presence at my side as I stood, transfixed, at the edge of that terrible scar on the Florida landscape; the hurt in his eyes when I lashed out at him over his suggestion of a memorial service for Lizzie, and his understanding and forgiveness when I apologised; hours and hours of talkin' and drinkin' on the mission to the Expanse while we exorcised our demons; wakin' up cuddling him at his sister's place in London; reading his books to him when he was blind after the Solorian incident; and, finally, lying cradled in his arms in decon as he in his turn nursed me through radiation poisoning.

Malcolm and me. Inseparable.

Malcolm. My friend. My close, intimate friend. I miss him so much. I'd forgotten how many times a day we run into each other even when we don't get together off-duty: on the bridge, in the mess hall, or just needing to confer about the ship's systems. I miss his intelligence and his companionship. I miss seeing his smile every day. I miss his eyes. I miss his touch.

Oh god, how I miss him.

* * *

Starship Enterprise: 3rd December 2154.

I was desperate to see Malcolm again and put things right, if I could. If he'd let me. But I didn't think I'd have to dangle on a wire strung between two ships hurtling through space at warp five to do it. As much as I wanted to get there in time, I almost froze on that wire when Enterprise's warp field began to fluctuate, and I swear it was only hearing Malcolm's voice in my ear and knowing he was there waiting for me at the other end that kept me going. Then when he grabbed me and released me from the tether in the nick of time I would've kissed him senseless right there in the launch bay if it hadn't been for the EV helmets. But we were under serious time pressure and both our Captains were listening in.

"Permission to come aboard?" I said, hoping he'd get the double meaning; that I was asking him to forgive me for hurting him and let me back into his life. He smiled at me, and my heart leapt. It gave me some hope, but our personal lives would have to wait until this crisis was over.

I got the shock of my life when I bumped into a couple of MACOs as we came out of the launch bay.

"What are they here for?" I said, turning to Malcolm.

"The Captain and I have had a slight misunderstanding." I knew in Malcolm-speak that meant he was in serious trouble.

I frowned. "How slight?"

"These gentlemen are here to escort me back to the brig," he said. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it when we're not quite so busy."

And with that he turned and walked off down the corridor, flanked by the MACOs, leaving me to scrape my jaw off the floor as I headed for engineering. I couldn't believe it. How the hell had Malcolm Reedâ€”my Malcolmâ€”the most straight-laced, by-the-book officer I've ever known, landed himself in the brig?

I'd been imagining a long, private talk with him after we'd purged the engineering subroutines, explaining how I'd come to make such an ass of myself and asking him to forgive me, maybe even finding out for sure if he felt anything for me, but if he was locked in the brig I guessed we wouldn't be sorting out our feelings for each other any time soon.

I guess I was pretty snarky with T'Pol as we got ready to restart the engine, but between the pressure we were under, being worried about Malcolm, and feeling embarrassed about the way I'd acted towards her before I left, I was pretty rattled. I quickly got a hold of myself and got on with the job in hand, but it wasn't easy.

Once we'd restarted the engine and dropped out of warp I had time to think about Malcolm again. I started to wonder if my leaving had anything to do with his spell in the brig. A small, selfish part of me hoped it did; that he was so upset I'd gone that he'd done something real stupid. But nobody was talking, not even the Captain, and I realised I was being an idiot. Malcolm would never let his emotions get in the way of doing his duty, and he'd certainly never do something so bad it got him thrown in the brig. It must be some kind of mistake. Then I got to thinking maybe he was acting as a stool pigeon to get our Klingon friend talking. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

So for a while I buried myself in working on the engine repairs with T'Pol and Kelby while we looked for Phlox, biding my time 'til I could talk with Malcolm. To be honest I had my hands full with Kelby: he was sullen and hostile and I started to wonder how the hell he'd managed to get this job. I'd recommended Hess, and she would have been a far better choice. Not that T'Pol was much better. She kept following me around asking weird questions. I was still worried about Malcolm and I really didn't want to deal with her.

Then I heard Malcolm was back on duty on the bridge, and as soon as Phlox and the Captain were back on board and we'd both finished our shifts I found myself outside his door. I was so nervous my hands were shaking by the time I'd screwed up enough courage to press the chime. I knew what I wanted to say, but would he want to hear it? Would he forgive me for hurting him? Would he feel the way I did? At the very least I owed him an explanation, but I wanted so much more. I hoped against hope he'd be willing to give me a second chance.


End file.
